


Cat-fishing

by LadyMerlin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bad Flirting, Cat Cafés, Cat Puns, Cats, Fluff, Humour, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 22:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12592220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: In which Kenma goes for the pussy but stays for the dick.(Shut up, Kuroo)





	Cat-fishing

It’s been a shit day at the tail end of a shit week, in what’s shaping up to be a truly shit year. That’s why when Kenma sees the “kittens for adoption” poster, it’s quite literally a sign from the gods. 

Calling it a poster is generous. It’s more of a DIY sort of flyer, clearly hand drawn and photocopied at a corner conbini on cheap paper. The artist displays more enthusiasm than skill, but the six blobs depicted are recognisably kittens, and the phone number is legible, which is all Kenma really needs to make up his mind.

And because Kenma needs something to cheer himself up after the kind of day/week/year it’s been, he decides to treat himself, and call the line. 

Well, text. Kenma avoids calling people, if at all possible. 

The person replies almost immediately and volunteers an address without any sort of hesitation. Kenma himself pauses, wondering if he’s talking to a child who’s just given a stranger his or her address, or if he’s being catfished and his name is going to end up all over the evening news again. Who gives out their address to a stranger??? 

He takes a picture of the flyer for good measure and sends it in a message to Akaashi, who has far more patience and sense than all of his other friends combined. Akaashi replies with a brief “K,” but Kenma knows if he’s not home by 8:30pm, Akaashi will institute a nationwide manhunt to find him. It’s good to be able to rely on your friends.

The address turns out to be a small café, a cat café, as it turns out, only a few streets from where Kenma works. Kenma heaves a sigh of relief, because that makes a _lot_ more sense than someone giving out their home address to strangers.

When he opens the door a small bell tinkles and at least five cats turn to investigate the sound. This is normal, because cats are naturally curious creatures and like to be aware of their surroundings.

What’s _not_ normal (for anyone except Kenma) is the way they clearly recognise one of their own kind, and swarm towards the little plastic gate that keeps them away from the front door. Kenma can already feel himself sinking into a kitten induced haze and wonders which idiot thought they could keep cats in one place with a plastic knee-high toddler gate. 

“That would be me,” a voice says, just as a truly majestic ginger bounds over the gate - hah, the kitty gate - and makes for Kenma. Kenma is so taken aback at the voice from just inches behind him that he startles, loses balance, and almost tips over when the ginger cat barrels into his legs full tilt, slinking around his ankles in fervent figure-eights.

He’d have landed on his face if not for large hands on his shoulders, hauling him upright. 

Almost as soon as he’s sure of his feet underneath him, Kenma turns to glare at the speaker, who turns out to be tall, dark, and _mindblowing_. Kenma’s a little surprised at how hot the guy is – what’s he doing in a cat café?

But the guy ruins it when he opens his mouth to demand, “are you carrying catnip or something?” Another cat claws its way up Kenma’s jeans, claws only prickling slightly at the back of his knee. Kenma rolls his eyes but then considers it. It would probably be really nice, he wouldn’t even have to carry a lot, just a few leaves and soon enough every stray cat in town would - no. 

No, his mom had had this talk with him.

The guy snorts. “Well, I suppose it’s an idea for tomorrow,” and Kenma continues to be a little taken aback. He hadn’t realised how easy he was to read. Something about this guy is unsettling, but not in a bad way. Just in an… unsettling way. Kenma’s not so sure of his own feet, and it’s weird. And it doesn't help that he's really attractive.

He shrugs and desperately tries to play it cool. “Probably a better idea than the kitty - I mean the kiddy gate.” 

At least three more cats have escaped without the tall guy noticing, and he only looks a little worried about it.  He snorts at Kenma’s slip-up anyway, before trying to pry a cat from Kenma’s arms. Kenma isn’t sure when or how he picked it up without looking away from the guy, but if anything, attracting cats is Kenma’s secret superpower. 

The tabby in Kenma’s arms protests and howls at the guy, who looks offended. It’s almost funny. “Well, you technically do have to pay for spending time with the cats but I think the cat-izens would revolt if I tried to remove you at this point.” 

Kenma shakes his head and bites back a smile. He doesn’t want to get an employee of the café into trouble. Cafés like this, like libraries, performed a public service. “I’ll pay, of course, I just don’t know how much time I’ll be spending. I’ll pay later, you can grab my credit card from my wallet if you want.” It’s not this guy’s fault that Kenma’s like, well, catnip to cats. 

The guy snorts. “Big spender huh, I’ll put it on your tab.” Kenma rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything back. The comment had been teasing and not actually mean. That was rare. 

Kenma moves towards the plastic gate and the cats follow him. He can feel the guy’s incredulous stare on the back of his neck. “You can never really herd cats,” he hears himself saying. “You can only hope that they want to go where you’re heading.” The cats which are still inside the pen lose their collective minds, meowing loudly and crawling all over each other to get to Kenma. 

This is surprisingly (or maybe not), not the first time Kenma has had to deal with a kitten hoard, so he knows what to do next. He finds a corner and sits down so that they can reach him more easily. And then when they’re all over him, he lies down, uncaring of his hair on the fur-covered ground and the welfare of the back of his black t-shirt. It’s going to be a bitch to wash, but he doesn’t care. All he knows is that there are little paws all over him, and there’s a particularly sweet cat kneading his chin. It’s great.

It’s the _greatest_. 

“I mean, I’ve heard of puppy piles but I’ve never even imagined that cats would -”

The guy stands just outside the pen, leaning back on his heels and arms crossed. His hair is... it’s a masterpiece. “I’ve always liked cats,” Kenma offers. It’s not an explanation, but then again he doesn’t have one.

“Maybe you are a cat,” the guy theorises. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” 

Kenma shrugs. The guy steps over the gate with ease – _Jesus_ his legs are long – and sits down on the ground beside him. The cats don’t exactly scatter but they part to leave the guy room. It’s a sign that while they’re not into him like they’re into Kenma, they at least respect the guy and his space. That’s a good sign. Kenma doesn’t know what it’s a sign _of_ , but it’s a good sign.

“So what are you up to?” Kenma looks at the cat kneading his chest and shoots the guy a flat stare. 

“Just chilling.” 

The guy snorts and runs a hand through his hair. He’s shockingly attractive. His lap is broad and (shit he’s so tall that Kenma thinks he’d fit under the guy’s chin – no) looks bereft, just sitting there, all empty. So Kenma turns his hand and deposits a small cat onto the guy’s knee.

The cat accepts its fate and sits down primly, tail hanging prettily over the guy’s knee. He’s got a look of awe on his face as he strokes two fingers down the cat’s spine, and _holy shit_ two fingers are as wide as the space between the cat’s ears - the guy is a giant. 

“They like you too,” Kenma says, because the guy looks really taken aback, like he hadn’t expected the cat to even touch him. 

“I mean, I know, I own this place so these shitty tenants better love me but – it’s just, Miso doesn’t like anyone.” 

Kenma takes it to mean that the small cat on the guy’s knee is Miso. Now that they’re doing introductions –

“Kenma,” he offers, because he can’t keep calling the guy – the guy. 

“Pardon?” He asks, looking up from the cat on his knee. He’s got tawny cat-eyes, almond shaped and long-lashed.

“My name is Kenma.” 

The guy flashes a heartbreaking smile at him, but Kenma can see he’s a little taken aback. It’s nice to know he’s as unsettled by this as Kenma is. “I’m Kuroo. It’s nice to meet you, catnip.” 

Kenma ignores him in favour of putting a fat fluffball of a cat on his face. He closes his eyes and enjoys the softness of belly floof against his nose. Kuroo makes a little sound beside him, and Kenma wonders if a cat had accidentally scratched him. 

His phone vibrates and the cats startle, parting around Kenma’s thigh almost like they’re a liquid, all in sync. They’re barely back on top of him when it vibrates again. Akaashi. “What time is it?”

Kuroo’s voice is a little thready and hoarse when he replies, like he’s coming down with something. “About 8:30. Why?” 

Kenma doesn’t answer. “Do you mind grabbing my phone?” 

Kuroo makes another funny sound and Kenma would look to see what was wrong, but fluffy is on his face. “Um, where is it?”

“Pocket,” Kenma says, but it comes out as “packet” when fluffy’s fur gets between his lips and into his mouth. Kenma knows better than to spit it back out – there’s really no recovering from cat fur. He is cheerfully resigned.

“I bet it is,” the guy murmurs, nonsensically. “Can’t you get it yourself?” 

Kenma tries to convey his death stare in his tone. “I’m holding something, you monster.” There’s a cat holding onto his right palm and Kenma’s the happiest he’s been in months. He’s not about to make the cat move. 

The guy – Kuroo snorts a laugh but reaches for Kenma’s pocket just as the phone vibrates again. 

They both startle and Kuroo’s hand brushes his thigh instead, making Kenma shiver in turn, and the cats react in unison. They both politely pretend it didn’t happen and Kenma pretends he’s not visualising how this guy’s hand would feel on his thigh, on his face.

“Password is nekomata, all small letters.” 

“What am I, your personal assistant?” Kuroo asks, but Kenma hears the familiar sound of his phone unlocking. 

“Where are you, it’s 8:30, I’m calling the police if you don’t reply, and too late I’m calling Hinata,” Kuroo recites, scrolling through the messages on his screen.

It’s the last one that makes Kenma sit up abruptly. The cats scatter like the parting of the Red Sea and Kenma moans, pressing his face into the cat which – startled by the sudden movement – has landed in his lap. The cat looks as surprised by the development as Kenma had been when its paw landed somewhere quite dangerous. 

“They’re from a Keiji, though I guess you knew that. Boyfriend?” Kuroo’s tone is mild but there’s something off about it. Kenma doesn’t think about it too hard. Overthinking never got him anywhere.

Kenma snorts. “Brother-in-law.” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to assure Kuroo he’s very single, but he does. He doesn’t say it, though, opting instead for “I don’t get out much, so they worry.” 

Kuroo grins at him, wide and relaxed. The corners of his eyes crinkle and he’s got a snaggletooth that shows when his lips part around his smile. “Don’t see why not,” he drawls, “a cool cat like you should be knee deep in puss-“ 

“Get out,” Kenma says, reflexively, and Kuroo bursts into laughter. It’s warm and clear, like honey. Kuroo’s eyes shine in the glow of the low hanging café lights. 

“Nah, sorry, no can do. There’s a ca- napper in my café—” 

Kenma moans but he doesn’t really mean it, and he thinks Kuroo can tell. “I’ll set my army of cats on you,” he deadpans, and Kuroo starts laughing again, getting to his feet. The last of the cats detaches itself from Kenma’s body, and he accepts Kuroo’s proffered hand. 

He doesn’t let go even when they’re both on their feet. Kuroo makes no move to take his hand back. His fingers are almost obscenely long, calloused and strong.

Kuroo pats him down with his other hand. Kenma has no doubt covered in cat fur, but it feels like a thinly veiled excuse to touch, and it’s… it’s nice. Kenma can’t find it in himself to protest the careful hands carefully brushing his shoulders, his back, down the front of his thin t-shirt.

Kuroo’s large hand strokes over his hair once, twice, before he moves to takes it back. “There,” he says, “Purr-fect.” 

He hasn’t even finished his sentence but Kenma sees it coming. “You’re a dick,” Kenma says, but that doesn’t stop him from leaning into Kuroo’s hand.

Kuroo doesn’t take it back and his fingers tangle into the ends of Kenma’s hair where it’s curling out of place. “You like it, though, right?” he sounds like he’s being serious, so Kenma does him the courtesy of being serious back.

He nods, “did you think I let handsome strangers put their hands all over me if I didn’t like them?”

Kuroo blushes all of a sudden, high in his cheeks, and he’s _very cute_. Kenma’s in trouble. “God, you’re going to be savage, aren’t you?” he asks and it’s not really a question, so Kenma doesn’t answer. “It’s okay,” Kuroo continues. “You’re really cute, and I can be purr-sistent.”

Kenma puts his face in his hands and pretends his embarrassed blush isn’t going all the way down his neck and behind his ears, down the back of his t-shirt.

Kenma decides to take a chance. “Meow too,” he says quietly, half hoping Kuroo won’t hear him.

Kuroo does, and crows in delight that Kenma’s decided to play. There’s a thin line of pale skin visible where his shirt has ridden up over his waist. It’s such a tantalizing sight that Kenma doesn’t even mind when Kuroo puts a proprietary hand around his shoulders and ushers him to a table in the corner of the café.

“Which reminds me,” Kenma says. “I saw a poster for kittens?”

Kuroo’s face falls and he ducks his head. “Sorry, Kenma. Just gave away the last one ten minutes before you came in.”

Something on his face makes Kenma ask, “who adopted it?”

Kuroo grins, bashfully. His eyes are squinty where his cheeks have pushed up, and Kenma resists the urge to touch his hair. “My roommate,” he replies, a hand going to rub the back of his neck.

“Well,” Kenma says, Hinata’s words of wisdom ringing in his head. He decides to be brave. “Suppose that just gives me another reason to visit, right?”

Kuroo smiles and he's so delighted that it’s like he’s floating ten inches in the air, and suddenly, despite the text messages blowing up his phone and finding out that all the kittens had been adopted, Kenma’s day is looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> Kuroo’s a dick that’s it that’s the punchline * **jazzhands** *
> 
> Written almost entirely on my phone so I’m sorry for any odd word replacements that I’ve missed *shakes fist* damn you autocorrect
> 
> Other titles I considered: Catman, the Purred Piper, Meet-Cat, Pussy Magnet, Kitten Love, A Puur-fect Encounter, A Mixed Bag (of Cats), Kenma’s not-so-cat-astrophic day.


End file.
